JANUARY ART

January 16, 2013 ART/PHOTOGRAPHY

Bruce Maxwell Tuck Magazine

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Introduction

by

Michael Organ

 

Bruce Maxwell’s art shines in the past of future living, his rich Maori heritage looking to a new everyday beginning. Ever present the boldness of colour blazes, from the intense brightness of nature’s bloom to the darkness hiding in despair, each painting the very point in being. Lose yourself in another life.

Blue breathes the bright in everyday warming, the light ever true to food from leaves spawning. Green’s sweet scent floats through the golden hills of honey breathing Manuka to survival’s last gasp, the root from soil to plant providing sustenance to the soul as colour pours from the artist’s heart in joyful celebration.

High in the trail of night’s dark stands a symbol to the promise of beyond. Seas swoon in the sky sun inspires, cheering the air of an everyday glowing, a beginning to be found in each new ending. Solid in belief our sign never wavers, invisible to most, standing tall in passioned heart. Seeds breathe from the sight gifted, open eyes clasping hands of hope as colour projects the imagination our artist’s world believes in.

Alive from a burning hand sits the face of within reflecting the outside calling. Proud at the head of an ancestral backbone a beacon of belief shines to all it greets, the beauty in soul carved for another to believe in. Eyes glaze the hollow in future’s chance as an understanding of nature conflicts with a step back in progress. Patterned only to the core our fears rise in the face of indecision.

Stark among the ailing a failing light walks in darkness, the mask of death black amongst the red of past bleeding. Waxed to strengthen, despair pours from man’s beaked cone, crow like in expression, surviving only on the scent within. Hope withers in reality’s lack of understanding, a thankless duty in the task of life demanding.

The transience of being pales to earth’s resolution, a longing for lasting sought only by the living. Above the death of breath new blossoms bloom, alive in the today fading only to the morrow. Fossils fight the end of bones breaking, the ground now their blood, the soil their soul aching. Through vivid hues our artist shades the new in old as green beams to blues distinct, the calm in colour throbbing to nature’s every beat.

Art breathes alone giving each new vision.

 

 

 

Golden Hills Bruce Maxwell Tuck Magazine

 

 

 

 

 

Kaitiake Bruce Maxwell Tuck Magazine

 

 

 

 

 

Koruru Bruce Maxwell Tuck Magazine

 

 

 

 

 Plague Doc Bruce Maxwell Tuck Magazine

 

 

 

 

 

 The Land Endures Bruce Maxwell Tuck Magazine

 

 

 

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